


Moments

by yeaka



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Ficlets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuri and Wolfram go shopping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Kyo Kara Maoh or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
> 
> A/N: These are two very old ficlets.

“Be honest,” Wolfram said, holding the frills just below his chin. “Is this my colour?”

Yuri hurriedly stuttered, “YeahsureIguess.” He was blushing furiously and laughing nervously. This was... embarrassing.

Wolfram seemed to neither see nor care about Yuri’s discomfort. He turned back to the nightgown, frowning a little. “Mother says green matches my eyes,” he mumbled distractedly. “But then, _I_ think I look much better in pink.” He sniffed. “Hence the first one.”

This was more than a little perturbing. Over Wolfram’s shoulder, Yuri noticed the clerk watching them, her eyes kind and her lips smiling. Yuri still wasn’t used to how comfortable the people of this world were with this sort of thing; he kept getting the urge to duck out of sight. “Well,” he found himself muttering, “If your other one is fine, why do you need this one?” To Yuri, this seemed a legitimate question.

Wolfram only sniffed and jerked his chin up haughtily before marching over to the next rack, scrutinizing the contents. Yuri still didn’t see why they couldn’t just get the royal seamstress to make one, but when he had brought it up, Wolfram did one of those ‘I-can’t-believe-you-don’t-want-to-be-seen-in-public-with-your-own-fiance’ rants. Which, albeit, weren’t that frequent—but rants in general were, and Yuri didn’t like them. So instead, he had stupidly agreed to help Wolfram waste the day picking out dresses. Why Wolfram needed him specifically for this, Yuri had no idea.

And why did he need a new one, anyway?

“The old one obviously isn’t serving its purpose,” Wolfram told him hotly. As usual, Wolfram’s tone indicated that his words should have been perfectly obvious.

“Why?” Yuri raised an eyebrow, confused. Whatever this purpose was, it certainly wasn’t obvious to him. “Are you cold at night?” And he cocked his head to the side a little, blinking.

Wolfram kept his eyes on the rack, and after a minute, it occurred to Yuri that eye contact was being deliberately avoided. Wolfram picked out a nightgown, eyed it once, then put it back. With his back still stubbornly turned, he managed, “I wouldn’t be if it worked.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

If he wanted more heat he should’ve just worn pants. Yuri considered saying that but ultimately rejected it. His apparent lack of understanding was getting him in enough trouble as it was.

Evidently, he was right. Wolfram bowed his head, arms tensing in clear frustration. He turned around slowly, emerald eyes fixing on Yuri and eyebrows twitching angrily. “Are you serious?” he grated out, after a minute or so of cold glaring. “You’re such a wimp that you seriously can’t tell what I’m getting at here?”

“Hey, don’t call me a wimp,” Yuri retorted dejectedly, entirely missing the point.

Yuri immediately knew he’d done something wrong. He opened his mouth on instinct to apologize but closed it again when he realized that he didn’t know what to apologize for.

Wolfram gave him no time to figure it out. “You’re so stupid!” Wolfram’s fists balled as he stepped closer to Yuri, exploding, “How could you not understand what I’m talking about?”

“Um, could we discuss this elsewhere?” Yuri suggested quietly, spotting the clerk again, who now looked worried.

“No, we cannot!” Now not only upset but offended, Wolfram stalked close enough to Yuri to make him back up into a rack of dresses. “Honestly, I’m trying to get us through a difficult step in our relationship, and all you can do is whine about going home!”

Yuri blinked. “Our relationship?” That was a little more explanatory than the last rant but still brought up some questions. “What does your nightgown have to do with that?”

Wolfram gave him one of those looks crossed between ‘How-could-you-not-get-it?’ and ‘How-could-you-be-so-stupid?’ He gritted his teeth as if to yell again, then, shockingly, didn’t. Instead, he sniffed and seemed to almost... deflate. He looked to the side bitterly. “You don’t like it.”

“Wha—?” Yuri mumbled, shocked. “I never said... what does that have to do with anything?”

“You obviously don’t like my other one, or you would have...” Wolfram trailed off, seeming to calculate the best way to phrase it, “...kept me warmer at night.”

Even then, it took Yuri a moment to see what his fiancé was insinuating. Then it hit him. Like a sack of bricks between the eyes. “Oh. OH.” He... really wasn’t sure what to say to that. Blushing even harder, Yuri waved his hands defensively. “N-no, I like your old one just fine...”

“Liar,” Wolfram grumbled.

“No, really!” he insisted. “It, um... it compliments your... um... skin tone. Yeah.” He had no idea if this was a good thing to say or not. Having never had a girlfriend, Yuri was completely in the dark with these things. But his fiancés was now looking at him, at least, even if it was with a fiery glare.

Yuri waited. Wolfram glared. He waited some more. Silence.

“Oh, I see,” the blond finally muttered, eyes narrowed. “My clothes have nothing to do with it—you’re just a wimp.”

Then he threw his nose up in the air and stormed right past Yuri, right out of the shop.

Yuri stayed, dumbstruck.


	2. Chu

“It’s orange,” Wolfram said, holding the neckline right below his chin again. “Why did you pick orange?”

Yuri shrugged lamely, unsure of what to say. He was unsure of what the answer was. “Well, they were out of pink ones, and...” And he let that sort of hang. Wolfram’s eyes softened a little, though they had been unusually soft in the first place. A voice in the back of Yuri’s head was warning him to quit while he was ahead, but his stupid mouth wouldn’t close. “And I thought I’d try blue like your uniform, but they didn’t have the right shade, so, um...” He ran out of things to ramble off and stopped.

Wolfram looked... inexplicably happy. It was mildly unsettling, as Yuri was used to seeing him either neutral or infuriated, but this was better. There was something in his eyes that made them shine, and a soft smile formed on his lips. “Yuri...” he trailed off quietly. “You’re such a wimp.”

Yuri gathered from his tone that that was Wolfram-speak for ‘thank you.’

So he quickly said, “You’re welcome,” and promptly turned around to hide his growing blush. Lying down, he threw the covers back over his head. It was almost midnight; Wolfram’s practice had run late. Yuri still wasn’t sure why he had waited, or even why he had bought the gift in the first place. The gift was an orange nightgown. As if on queue, the old, pink nightgown flew over his eyes, effectively covering them.

“Don’t look,” Wolfram was saying, as the inevitable result of this event registered in Yuri’s brain. If the nightgown was covering his eyes, it couldn’t be covering Wolfram. So...

“What are you doing?” Yuri suddenly spluttered, shooting back up and around again. Wolfram was in the middle of tugging his new nightwear over his head, his lower half just barely blocked by blankets. For some reason, Yuri’s nose chose this moment to begin bleeding. He blushed almost as hard as Wolfram was, hands flying up to clutch his nostrils.

“Changing, duh,” Wolfram answered coyly, and then, more furiously, “And I told you not to look!” Yuri turned his head away quickly, though the anger was oddly diluted.

Everything about this night was odd, from Wolfram’s strange sweetness to Yuri’s nose suddenly sprouting a leak. He kept his hands firmly clamped over it for a second, whilst his fiancé smoothed out some wrinkles and adjusted the shoulders. Then one slipped off and he tilted his head, grinning.

“But the real question is, is this one going to work any better than the last one?” The laugh that followed was freakishly sinister. “Is it going to...” and here Wolfram paused to creep a little closer, now crawling on hands and knees. This allowed the gentle fabric, a little too large for his supple frame, to fall down, thusly, allowing a decent view of said frame. “...Keep me warm at night?”

Yuri backed up until he felt the edge of the bed under his fingers, his gaze never once straying from Wolfram’s eyes. They were practically burning holes into his chest. Wolfram’s voice was breathy and low.

“I think we should christen it.”

Yuri then had exactly enough time to see down to Wolfram’s bellybutton through the dropping neckline, catching a glimpse of two pink, perked nipples on the way, before being thrown forcefully off the bed.

His head landed painfully on the cold floor, cushioned only by a barrage of fallen blankets. His legs were pressed up against the bed’s edge, his calves still on the surface. His back was arched awkwardly, arms a supporting mess.

Wolfram was equally awkwardly pressed against him, flattened down from head to toe. His nightgown had slid down his body, bunched up at the waist, leaving his legs fully exposed. The orange fabric remained off one shoulder. Wolfram was softly panting.

“Yuri...” Wolfram whispered in his ear, head just to the side of his. The warm breath tickled his skin, and their cheeks were brushing. The warmth was unbelievable; Yuri had to be blushing bright scarlet. Wolfram never finished his sentence.

Yuri had never so much as kissed a girl on the lips, let alone a boy. So naturally, it freaked the hell out of him when he found his fiancé’s face directly above is, eyes closing and lips leaning down.

The back of his head was cold and his face was burning, Yuri’s back felt sore and his mid-section was numb. The weight of Wolfram atop him was knocking the wind straight out of him. The small, pale hands fisting on his chest were strangely comforting, and the creamy, smooth legs against his own pajama’s fabric were doing a number on his brain. His thoughts were all fuzzy and useless.

Then Wolfram jerked back full-force, Yuri still frozen solid.

The handle’s turning must have alerted Wolfram, though in Yuri’s current state it was no wonder he’d missed it. The door was forced abruptly open, an older man jumping through it. “Your Majesty, I—” He was knocked several steps backwards by an incoming pillow.

“Damn it, Gunter!” Wolfram exploded angrily, reaching up for another pillow and chucking it. He was blushing almost as badly as Yuri. “Get out!”

Gunter dodged the pillow seamlessly, carrying on without pause. “Your Majesty, it’s terribly important that you come see these imports fro—”

“Get out!” Wolfram repeated, out of pillows, and therefore resorting to fists. Wolfram leapt off Yuri’s chest and dashed for the door, aiming a dodged punch at Gunter and shoving him violently through the frame. The door slammed on Gunter’s high-pitched cries of, ‘Your Majesty, please!’

When the shock finally wore off, Yuri deflated instantly, head flopping to the floor in a somewhat lifeless manner. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow, Gunter,” he called, past his still fuming fiancé. “...And you should... you should knock first...” He gave an unsteady laugh, which died off rather quickly.

Then it occurred to him that he was still in pain, so he threw the rest of his body off the bed, feeling it land with a soft ‘oomph.’ Gunter mumbled something, but seemed to take the hint, if sadly. Wolfram was now stalking back, his otherwise brilliant mood clearly having dissipated.

“Can you believe the nerve of that guy?” Wolfram demanded, crawling onto the bed in huff. Yuri felt the blankets tug. “Honestly! Bursting in like that! And just when we were finally...” here he grumbled off, twice as angry as before.

When Yuri regained enough thought process to actually get back on the bed, he found Wolfram facing the opposite direction, curled up and clearly tense. Although Yuri had absolutely no idea what he should do, or even how he felt, he tried to be comforting. Wolfram continued being exceedingly irritated, and answered everything with, “forget it,” or, “I don’t want to talk about it.” The later it got, the louder he shouted.

Yuri finally took the hint, and he went to bed with a sore back and head.


End file.
